Book of Revelations
by Catherine Pugh
Summary: A new irrigation system. A flirtation. A devastating illness and a devoted friend. Angsty!


Mary Ann and the Professor were sitting across from each other at the picnic table, papers and journals strewn around them. They were working on a planting chart and mapping a more effective irrigation system for the vegetable patch.

The radioactive seeds that had once scared them so much ended up not all being dangerous, so after running tests with the Geiger counter, they were able to separate out the uncontaminated seeds and salvage a fair garden out of it. This made life on the island much more palatable – not just food-wise, but also in general. Having a balanced diet of vegetables would be better for everyone's overall health.

It was getting late, but Mary Ann's practical sense with the Professor's biology background were igniting both of them, as they excitedly jotted down some ideas to bring some sustainable agriculture to the island.

"My father used sand for irrigation, like I've said before," she began, tapping her pencil on the end of her nose, "but you know how slugs can be a problem? We don't have beer or salt here, but we have plenty of seashells we could grind up and throw on top of the plants."

"Of course! Diatomaceous earth! How ingenious! Yes, we can easily do that with a mortar and pestle."

Mary Ann got up, walked over to the sideboard, and poured each of them a cup of guava juice. She sat down beside him to get a better look at his diagram.

"Oh, I see what you did here," she said, reaching in front of him and bumping his arm. "A rain barrel spout is a great idea. That way we won't have to haul everything up in buckets or from the well." She picked up the pencil and scribbled another diagram with an arrow. "But see here, you should probably cover it so the water doesn't evaporate out. We should have someone on lid duty, or make some kind of gutter thing to collect the water and use that barrel as a sort of holding tank."

He nodded in agreement, impressed with her perception.

"Right, gravity can do the work for us. If we put it up on that little hill behind the patch, we can have a sort of ramp where it flows down and waters the beds. It's all simple physics, really."

As Mary Ann smiled and leafed through the papers, the Professor took a sip of juice and tried not to focus too hard on her immediate presence. It was difficult all of a sudden, to not be distracted by her soft skin and the smell of jasmine flowers in her hair.

"What time is it?" she asked, turning toward him. He swallowed suddenly, feeling exposed. He glanced at his watch.

"It's nearly midnight. We should probably turn in."

"I'll go rinse these out so wasps don't get in the cups again. Oh! Gilligan's left some dishes again. He always does this." She patted him on the back as she got up.

"Here, I'll help dry," the Professor offered. He gathered the papers and journals, and joined her at the little makeshift dry sink. Their hands bumped once again as they both reached for the towel, and they chuckled a little nervously before finishing up.

"Thanks for helping," she said. "That will make tomorrow's prep work much easier. Ginger was going to pick some of the vegetables for a salad tomorrow. The lettuce and spinach are looking pretty good. It's a pretty great climate for raising vegetables, now that we have the soil prepared and some seedlings to work with."

"I'm really excited about our plan," he replied, drying his hands and replacing the towel on the holding bar. "Well, sweet dreams, Mary Ann."

"Goodnight," she replied. He headed back to his hut clutching his books, a slight spring in his step.

Both were smiling broadly as they parted ways for the night. The Professor tried to ignore that strange flutter in his brain. It was the heat. That was it.

His words rang in her ears. Since when had his voice become so…musical? Was that it?

-o0o-

That night, Mary Ann indeed had a sweet dream.

_She was on the prairie, much like her own Kansas home, but in the 1880s. She wore a calico dress and bonnet, and her husband in the dream was the Professor, a Charles Ingalls type. The rest of the Castaways were various townspeople. They lived a happy existence together in a place she loved and felt comfortable and missed terribly. _

_In the dream, they had glorious chicken egg omelettes and fresh bacon, and she was in a very comforting household, not unlike her own growing up. _

_When the Professor came home, they sat at the table and wrote wonderful stories together in the lamplight. She could even smell the scent of burning lamp oil in her dream, just like the one her grandmother had in her kitchen._

The dream was so pleasant and so vivid, that when she woke up in the morning, she was sad it was over, and incredibly homesick for Kansas.

She was also a little bit disconcerted that the Professor was her husband in the dream. Why him? She supposed it was that they had been spending more time together lately, and she certainly had never thought about it, but as Mrs. Howell would say, the subconscious does some strange things sometimes. She blushed when she opened the window to water the flowerbox and saw the Professor sitting at the picnic table, cutting up a mango with his pocketknife and chit-chatting with Mr. Howell and the Skipper.

"Good morning!" he said, waving.

"Good morning!" she replied. Usually Mary Ann was the first to awaken in the morning, but by the position of the sun, she must have slept in later than she expected. She looked down at her nightshirt, the one the Professor had given her the first night they were on the island. Somehow she felt…a sudden kinship with him. She dressed in a pair of shorts and a top, and joined the others.

"Sorry. I must have overslept," she said, taking the piece of mango the Professor offered her and sitting next to him.

"You sure did, girlie!" the Skipper replied. "It's nearly eleven! I've never known you to sleep so late. Ginger said she tried waking you, but you were so out she just let you alone. She's out taking looking for oysters with Gilligan and Mrs. Howell now."

Mary Ann looked sheepishly at the others and giggled. "Serves me right for staying up so late."

"Ah, I suppose that was partly my fault," the Professor said, popping some mango in his mouth. "That's what happens with overstimulation. You can't sleep!"

"Good heavens, what WERE you two up to last night?" Mr. Howell asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Working on plans for an irrigation plan for the vegetable patch," the Professor replied, not catching the intimation.

"Too bad," Mr. Howell muttered. "I thought something exciting was happening for once."

"Oh, Mr. Howell, this means we'll have a better means of having vegetables more often!" Mary Ann explained. "More sugar beets for Mrs. Howell."

The Castaways parted for their usual chores. Mary Ann took the radio and worked on the laundry, the Skipper went out to fish, the Professor went to work on some more calculations for the irrigation system.

A few nights later, they decided to work together again.

After the laundry was cleaned and Gilligan helped her hang the loads to dry, Mary Ann scaled some of the fresh fish and began frying it in coconut oil. Everyone loved fish fry night, and the delicious scent started bringing everyone by, one by one, to investigate the cooking. Dinner was a success.

That night, Ginger did the washing up, so Mary Ann had a few free hours. She decided to go for a stroll along the shore at twilight. She liked that time alone to reflect, and think about things, and in her own small way, commune with the rest of the world.

After she spent an hour or so wandering the beach, she headed back to camp. The others were relaxing in their huts or on the chaise lounges outside. She found the Professor reading in his little study area outside.

"Anything interesting?" she asked. He smiled when he saw her.

"Hello, dear. Oh, nothing special." He tried hiding the reading material behind his back. Mary Ann teasingly swooped down and took it out of his hand. She put her hand on her hip and held out the comic book like an annoyed mother, her head to the side.

"You're reading one of Gilligan's comic books?"

"Shh," he said. "I needed something different to read. I practically have my materials memorized by now. I'm going insane."

Mary Ann snickered as she sat next to him on the sand.

"Alright, I'll keep your secret."

"They really are quite interesting," he admitted. "I no longer view them as pure frivolity. The plots are as complex as any Russian novel, and the characters are compelling enough to make me wish he had Volume 14. I checked. That must have been published after we were shipwrecked."

"Does this mean you will stop making fun of my soap operas?" she said, with a twinkle in her eye.

"I never made fun of them!"

"I'm just teasing."

"Where were you this evening? We were all wondering where you'd gotten to." (That wasn't quite the truth. The Professor was the only one really wondering this.)

"Oh, for a walk on the beach. I like doing that from time to time to clear my head." She picked up a pebble in the sand and tossed it back and forth in her hand.

"Ah, yes, the sea does have many therapeutic properties. It's very nice this evening. No clouds."

"Yes," she replied, her eyebrows furrowing a bit. Was he nervous all of a sudden, or was it her imagination? She decided to break the tension a bit by cracking a joke. It took a second for him to register the punch line, but then he laughed heartily when he got it. She loved hearing the Professor laugh.

"Come on, let's go for a stroll," she said. "The others are all being boring tonight."

"Sure," he said absently. "I'll have to return this to Gilligan's hiding space before he notices it missing and my cover is blown."

"Oh, I'll do it," Mary Ann replied. "I know where it is. It's where he keeps his turtle."

A few minutes later, precious comic book returned safely, the Professor and Mary Ann took a walk around the perimeter of camp. He pointed up at the sky and noted several different star formations. Unlike Ginger's reaction some time back, begging him to say fancy words that meant nothing to her, Mary Ann was very interested in learning the stories of the constellations. He took great pleasure in telling her what he could remember of some of the ancient Greek myths. It was a very pleasant walk. They returned to camp and said goodnight.

-o0o-

The next afternoon, Mary Ann plopped next to him at the table with a set of drawings for the irrigation system. She had done the best she could in sketching out her father's old rig on the farm.

"Alright, here's what I can remember," she said, opening the folder. He worked out a few calculations and finally, they had come up with the perfect solution. The Skipper and Mr. Howell heard their cheering and joined them at the table as they excitedly shared their plan. The irrigation system would save a lot of backbreaking work for all of them, and provide them with a better makeshift agriculture system.

"I must say, this part here with the pulley is most ingenious," Mr. Howell said, tipping his tumbler in honor of their hard work.

"Mary Ann came up with that bit," the Professor said, proudly. She blushed at the compliment.

The Skipper and Mr. Howell bid the pair goodnight and went to bed, leaving Mary Ann and the Professor at the table. She yawned a bit and playfully gave him a hug.

"I had fun tonight," she said, smiling in the dwindling light of the tikis.

He yawned in turn and hugged her back.

"You know what, so did I!" he joked, tapping her forehead. "This will make things so much better for everyone. Gilligan won't have to haul all those buckets from the cistern every day. The poor guy can take a break once in a while. Nothing like a good plan from two sharp minds, my dear."

He realized he still had her in his arms and felt self-conscious for a moment. He gently released her and stood up.

Mary Ann felt a sudden clench in her stomach. She felt her body shake and her teeth almost start to chatter. _My dear. _She tried not to dwell on the "my" part. But he never said that to anyone else.

His heart began to pound. "I'd better hit the hay."

"Yes. Well, good night."

-o0o-

The Professor, this time, had his own dream.

_He was a famous chemist in the 1890s, and Mary Ann was his assistant. They were on the brink of discovering the cure for the common cold. _

"_Maybe it's something simple. Something everyone has for dinner. Perhaps it's….chicken soup!"_

"_Chicken soup?"_

"_I'll give you the formula. One chicken, plus water, plus celery and onions…"_

_In his eureka moment, he scribbled the formula on the blackboard, picked her up, whirled her around in pure joy, and kissed her._

"_I want you by my side," he told Dream Mary Ann. "Forever. We shall discover great things, you and I!"_

"_Maybe we will win the Nobel Prize! Has it been invented yet?"_

"_No! Not for another five years! But we will be the first, my darling!"_

He awoke the next morning with a smile on his face. He hadn't slept so well in months. But why had he dreamt of Mary Ann in such a manner?

-o0o-

The next day went along like every other day. Chores in the morning, food prep (tonight was the Skipper and Gilligan's night, and it was boiled lobster this time). The vegetable patch was coming along nicely. The carrots would be ready in a week or two. The lettuce was so plentiful they almost had too much for the seven of them.

The Skipper noticed the Professor occasionally gazing at Mary Ann working in the vegetable patch, as the two men worked on constructing the pipeline. He couldn't blame him. Even the Skipper had noticed the petite woman's figure from time to time. After all, he was a sailor.

But the Skipper felt a pang of sympathy for the Professor. He must have been very lonely at the university all those years he devoted his time to studying. The Professor never spoke of girlfriends or anyone special in his life. God knows he'd never paid much attention to Ginger's advances. For some time the Skipper thought the Professor might be…but no, he wasn't, just extremely shy around women.

The Skipper had been quite content to having a string of dates with beautiful hula dancers and night club singers on the mainland, but the Professor seemed to only have eyes for Mary Ann. He decided to bite the bullet and talk about it with him.

"She's very pretty," the Skipper said, motioning to Mary Ann. "And kind. And smart as a whip."

"Indeed," the Professor said airily. Suddenly he turned sharply and dragged the Skipper completely out of earshot. "Wait. What are you getting at, Skipper?"

The Skipper laughed heartily.

"If you don't mind me, Professor, I think you might be a little sweet on our Mary Ann, aren't you?"

The Professor tried laughing it off, unconvincingly. Finally he gave up. "She's a very nice girl," he said.

"Yes, she is." The Skipper looked expectantly at the Professor, who shook his head.

"Oh, come on. She wouldn't be interested in a boring academic," the Professor scoffed. "Women have always told me I put them to sleep. They just never find the things I like very compelling, that's all. I've tried so many times."

"You've never had a girlfriend?"

"Heavens, no, and not for lack of wanting one. I was just awful at it. My family was always attempting blind dates, and I always messed them up because I can never shut up about things I feel comfortable talking about."

"Well, what kind of woman interests you?" the Skipper asked, wrapping a piece of rubber around the pipeline.

"Oh, I envisage having a partner by my side, with a common goal in mind, not one only interested in physical activities. When that's over, what is there?"

The Skipper had to admit, he had never really thought of that. Bittersweet memories of a long-lost hula girl resurfaced. He cleared his throat, remembering when Ginger tagged along with the Professor everywhere until she came back complaining one day that he had compared her looks to that of a specific breed of moth. To the Professor, that was a friendly compliment, but Ginger took it badly. The Professor never knew what he had done wrong.

"You have six degrees, Professor, and none of them are the MRS degree," the Skipper concluded, triumphantly.

"What's that?"

"One you will regret not having one day if you don't take your chance." The Skipper smiled ruefully. That hula dancer was named Yvonne, or at least that was what she told everyone it was. _She was probably married with four kids by now_, he thought sadly. He wished he had taken his chance when he did, and those kids would be his own. He always wanted to be a dad. Instead, he'd had a different fate altogether.

"Alright," the Professor replied. "Thanks, Skipper."

"Go help her," the Skipper commanded, pointing toward Mary Ann. She stood up and brushed off her jeans.

"Hi, fellas!" she said. "I think these turnips are ready to pick!"

The Skipper nudged the Professor toward her and took off in the jungle to go find Gilligan. The Professor walked toward her and scratched his neck.

"Hi, Mary Ann. Um…it's very warm today, is it not?"

Mary Ann giggled. "For a tropical island, it's downright freezing today! What is it, 80º? Here, hold the basket while I pile these in. Mashed turnips! I'm so excited!"

She didn't notice the Professor's hands shaking.

"What are you doing tonight, Mary Ann?"

"Oh, nothing. I'll probably help Ginger shred some coconut."

"Would you like to accompany me on another walk? That is…ahh…well, it's just that I've been wanting to show you a particularly interesting species of roach that is only nocturnal and feeds on its young."

"Cannibal roaches?" She was interrupted by a rustle of leaves. "Oh, hi Ginger!" Mary Ann called, as Ginger sauntered over. "Can you take some of these turnips back to camp?"

"Sure," Ginger said, picking up the basket.

"Now, what's this about roaches?" Mary Ann asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Oh, never mind. Just a silly idea." The Professor took the other basket and carried it back to the huts.

-o0o-

A few nights later, the Howells announced to everyone that they were celebrating what they though was "probably their 25th anniversary." They weren't entirely sure, but it was reason enough to throw a clambake party. They had been saving a bottle of bubbly for the special occasion.

Everyone was in a good mood and dancing. The Professor, who usually had no problem dancing with Mary Ann at parties, suddenly found himself seized with fear of being near her, of not knowing how to hold her properly. When she approached him for a dance, he accidentally spilled his drink and he had to go back to his hut to change his trousers.

_She's so beautiful tonight, _he thought, as he returned to the party a few minutes later. _The red blossom in her hair really brings out the brown. _

To his dismay, the object of his affection was currently dancing with the first mate.

Everyone was drunk. Clearly. It must have been the good wine year that Mr. Howell always praised so highly. _Oenophiles. Hmmph._

Ginger, who was dancing with the Skipper, noticed the Professor staring at Mary Ann, and squealed with delight. The Skipper confirmed the situation to her earlier, much to their mutual glee. Ginger and the Skipper came up with a plan to try to help things along. By this time, everyone knew and was conspiring, except Gilligan, who didn't really care about these matters as much as he did about the prospect of carrot cake.

Ginger sauntered up to the Professor and took his arm. "Come on, Professorrrr," she slurred. "Everyone's having fun."

"So I see."

Undaunted, she slinked her arms around him and danced a little closer. To everyone else, it appeared she was putting the moves on the Professor. It was enough to light a fire under Mary Ann, who angrily peered over Gilligan's shoulder at them.

"Professor, in case you're wondering, she keeps looking over at us."

"Who?"

"You know who."

"Why would she be doing that?"

"Because she's jealous, you schnook. I think you should ask her to dance with you."

"But…"

"No buts." She surreptitiously motioned for the Skipper to cut in with Mary Ann so Gilligan could sit down and have some carrot cake. (He felt he deserved an extra slice.)

Deftly, Ginger twirled the Professor around so he was next to Mary Ann. The Skipper asked to cut in, leaving the Professor and Mary Ann to dance. Ginger winked at him as she and the Skipper fox-trotted to the other side of the table. Mr. Howell put on a waltz record next before slumping down drunkenly on the chaise lounge and doing his Lionel Barrymore impression.

"What was that all about?" Mary Ann asked, a little angry.

"What was what all about?" the Professor replied, leading a waltz. He was beginning to get self-conscious, as badly as he did on those awful blind dates his mother and aunt used to try to set up for him.

"Ginger," Mary Ann said. "She was…friendly."

"She was just that. Friendly."

"Not from what I saw." Mary Ann was becoming more rigid, making his palms sweat.

"Why would that matter to you?" he asked bluntly, not meaning to upset her, but failing. He was desperate to know now. Before he could ask further, she wrenched herself from his gentle grip.

"I don't know!" she replied, her face reddening. "Oh, I think I need to go to bed," she said. "I had too much of that champagne or something. My head's all cloudy." She ran off to her hut without saying goodnight to anyone, her heart feeling as if it were going to break. It was all a lie. He wasn't interested in her at all!

Ginger, who at this point was very tipsy indeed, came over to the Professor after Mary Ann's departure and patted his shoulder.

"I was only trying to help."

"Help WHAT?"

"Getting you two together. The Skipper told me and we thought it would be cute." She glanced over at the Howells, who were currently passed out drunk on the chaise lounge. "You know, like they are."

"I need to go lie down," the Professor grumbled, tearing off his jacket and stomping back to his hut. "I don't have time for head games."

-o0o-

The next day, Mary Ann consciously avoided the Professor. Even at dinner, they sat on opposite ends of the table. They were cordial, but certainly not as chummy as they had been for the past few weeks.

Dinner was largely dominated by the Howells' discussing the wine from the party and how wonderful it was to share the time with their dear, dear island friends.

After everyone had finished,Mary Ann quietly got up, politely said goodnight to everyone, and walked to her hut. She wanted to read; be alone, sulk – whatever. She didn't even know why she was grouchy. Certainly some jealousy. But she felt a touch of fright for something else: her feelings.

She lay in bed, when all of a sudden she felt a slight pinch. A mosquito bit her on the neck.

"Ow!" She slapped the thing off her and fell asleep.

-o0o-

This tension and stilted behavior between the Professor and Mary Ann remained until several days later. They would greet each other, but she would turn away before he could talk to her so he wouldn't see her reddening face. He thought she was still angry with him, and was afraid to bring anything up about the mishap, so he kept strictly to his work.

Mary Ann found a little solitude in tending the vegetable patch, and had been feeling a little under the weather, but she had chalked it up to silly feelings. But by noon, she felt dizzy and even a little cold. She sat down for a minute to get her bearings.

Luckily Gilligan and the Skipper were nearby, wrapping the last of the pipe.

"Mary Ann?" the Skipper called out to her, noticing her wobbling. He thought perhaps the sun might be affecting her. "Why don't you go lie down?"

"I'm not feeling well, Skipper," she said. "I wonder if I have the flu."

"The flu?" the Skipper repeated. He walked over to check her out. "Oh my god," he exclaimed. "Mary Ann, we have to get you quarantined right away. I had it at Guadalcanal. If you have Riku Fever…"

"Riku Fever?" she croaked. "Oh my goodness. That mosquito. I was bitten by one. But that was four nights ago!"

"What did it look like?" the Skipper persisted anxiously.

"I don't know, it was dark," she replied. She suddenly turned and vomited in the bushes, as the Skipper hovered over her helplessly.

The shock of her bodily reaction and the sunlight was too much for her, as she collapsed on the ground in a sweaty heap.

The Skipper gasped in fright, picked up the young woman and carried her to the Professor's hut. Time was of the essence if she had what he suspected. The Professor would have to help.

"Gilligan! Go get the Professor!"

-o0o-

"Gilligan, what's wrong?"

"It's Mary Ann. She's sick."

"Sick how?" The Professor stood up. The worry on Gilligan's face was a frightening sight.

"The Skipper isn't sure. Oh, here he comes."

The Skipper, clutching a lifeless Mary Ann gathered in his strong arms, appeared in the doorway. A lump dropped in the Professor's stomach as soon as he saw her.

The Professor put his hand to her forehead, to find it cold and clammy.

"I think it's Riku Fever," the sailor replied. "I don't know. She has the symptoms and she said she got a mosquito bite the other night. I had it during the war, so I'm immune to it now. But it's horrible."

"Good heavens. She's going to have to be quarantined. She can stay here." The Professor cleared off his cot and arranged some pillows on it. The Skipper laid her down gently on the bed as the Professor picked up his tropical diseases book and leafed through it for some answers. The lack of a rash so far was heartening, but it was still far too early to tell.

"Good lord. Gilligan, you have to leave immediately."

"But…"

"She could be highly contagious. We can't risk you getting sick, too." Gilligan nodded sadly and walked back toward the hut. Mary Ann was just like his sister, who he missed very much back home. He was incredibly worried.

So were the other two men. The Skipper had laid the girl on the Professor's cot as they looked over her symptoms.

"Skipper, if this Riku Fever, it's highly possible we could all get it – except you."

"I know THAT," the Skipper replied. "Our unit was teeming with it. I was sent to New Zealand to recover for a time. But what about you?"

"I need to be the doctor," the Professor said simply. "I have some knowledge of medicine and tropical diseases. We're going to have to simply wait out the next 48 hours to make sure Mary Ann's symptoms don't worsen."

"What's the prognosis? Do you think that's what she has? We don't have the right medicine here!"

"I don't know yet. If it's malaria or encephalitis, that lack of medicine could prove fatal to her," the Professor said, as clinically as possible, but his voice cracked. "Let's hope it's less of a threat. Maybe it's just a regular fever. Maybe the mosquito bite wasn't an _anopheles gambiae_. Maybe it really is the flu."

"Professor, if you don't mind me saying, I think Mary Ann is going to have to stay in the jail cave for the next day or two until we know for sure if that's what she has. There's a fresh water supply right there and it's not too far away."

"Yes. I suppose you're right," the Professor relented, looking over at Mary Ann's small frame. "You will have to help me get situated there."

"We'll carry her over on the cot. You pick up all your necessities for now and I can get all that over there later once we have her quarantined. Oh, poor Mary Ann." The Skipper looked down at her pityingly.

"Alright, Skipper. Run over to the girls' hut and get Mary Ann's night shirt. We're going to have to tell the others immediately. But we've got to get her out of these soiled clothes. Gilligan will have to burn them."

The Skipper complied. Mary Ann stirred slightly, sweat pouring from her forehead.

"Head…hurts," she murmured. "Threw up."

"I know, dear." the Professor said, handing her a gourd. "Here. You have to drink some water."

"Malaria?" she asked, after taking a small sip from the vessel. The Professor honestly had no response, so he simply told her he was going to change her into her nightshirt. She nodded and fell limp against him. The Skipper returned with the shirt and left to tell the others what had happened. The Professor gently removed her top and shorts, talking to her the whole time. She was too weak to respond, and he was too worried to be embarrassed. The fatigue hit her hard as she fell back onto the pillow. He dressed her as he would a doll – very carefully, trying as much as possible to preserve her dignity and modesty. He took a wet rag and cleaned the dried vomit from her chin and chest.

"We don't know what you have. But I promise I will do all I can to take care of you."

-o0o-

The Skipper had a hard time breaking the news to everyone. Mrs. Howell, who thought of Mary Ann as the daughter she'd never had, burst into tears. Ginger followed suit. Gilligan even wiped some tears away. They all sat forlornly at the picnic table.

"There is nothing we can do," the Skipper said. "We don't even know what she has, yet. We have to wait for the symptoms to reveal themselves. If she has it, she'll be covered in a dark red rash by tonight, which is bad news. Otherwise, she'll be alright."

"If we were back in civilization I'd spend my entire fortune to take her to the best hospitals!" Mr. Howell said. "Poor girl."

"Maybe some flowers would cheer her up," Gilligan suggested. "We could each pick her a bouquet, then when she wakes up, she'll have a whole cave full of flowers."

The others thought that would be a lovely idea.

-o0o-

The Professor dozed off at the table, his head resting between the pages of "Tropical Diseases." The last 36 hours had been agony. The symptoms listed in the tropical disesases book could be anything from Riku fever, to malaria, to a mild infection that would be done in three days. He had no way of knowing how her spleen or kidneys were being ravaged – if they were – and he certainly had no cure for her.

To pass the time, he studied his field notes about ferns, and decided to keep trudging away at his book. Every so often he would look up to make sure she was alright. She would awaken a bit, not sure where she was, but she would call for him.

"Yes dear, I'm here."

Not knowing what else to do for her to pass the time, he'd tell stories of his childhood, or read some passages from his fern notes, or draw pictures on a piece of slate to amuse her.

Eating wasn't going well. Every time she attempted bites of solid food, she would soon throw up what little she ate. She was keeping down liquids, so he would give her sips of water or guava juice to try to keep her hydrated. No rash appeared, but she had taken on an awful pallor. She was burning up so badly from fever that it was all he could do to keep her temperature down with wet rags. As she slipped back into unconsciousness, the Professor decided that he didn't care anymore. If she died, he would gladly follow her into oblivion.

"Mary Ann," he whispered. "Please don't leave us."

Despite his best efforts to stop them, a few tears dripped down his cheeks. And then the flood came.

-o0o-

"Professor?" The Skipper arrived some time later with some provisions and a giant bouquet from everyone. Seeing the poor Professor asleep by Mary Ann's side, he placed the flowers on the little table and checked her himself. No rash. At least it wasn't the deadly Riku Fever. Malaria still remained a possibility; possibly dengue fever. No one knew.

He gently shook the Professor awake. When he raised his head sleepily, the Skipper saw dried tears on his face and immediately felt a lump in his own throat forming. He cleared it and helped the beleaguered teacher to his feet.

"You look awful," the Skipper said, walking him to his little makeshift bed of blankets and one of Mrs. Howell's beloved feather pillows. "You need to get your sleep, too, or you'll get sick."

"I can't sleep," the Professor said.

"You have to," the Skipper replied. "I checked on Mary Ann. She definitely doesn't have Riku Fever. That's a relief."

"But she does still have a dangerously high temperature that I've been trying to moderate. So that leaves several other dangerous possibilities. She could lose her hearing or her heart could be damaged." The Professor drooped his head. "I feel like I'm failing her."

"Failing her? Professor, look – you aren't a god, you're a man, you're doing what you can with what little you know and what even less you have here. You're a wreck. Now, I'm pulling rank and ordering you to sleep. You have your little cot over there, take a nap for an hour or so, will ya? I'll come wake you up."

The Professor agreed. It did feel good to put his head down on the soft pillow. He was asleep within minutes.

The dream he had was very vivid and upsetting.

_Mary Ann had died, and everyone was at her funeral staring at her gravestone. Someone carved a piece of pie on it. Suddenly he looked up and saw her sitting in a tree, wearing a white shroud, waving to everyone. She was completely transparent._

"_Mary Ann!" he shouted to the apparition. No one noticed him leave the funeral or heard him yelling for her. He felt his feet turn heavy, as if they'd been dipped in concrete. _

_She put her finger to her lips and giggled as she jumped off the cliff into the ocean. He ran slowly after her, his fingers over his eyes. When he dared to look, she was hovering in the air. She sadly waved goodbye and floated toward the ocean, vanishing forever._

He awoke in a cold sweat, to the Skipper hovering over him, afraid at first that he might be ill, but he didn't feel ill. Just exhausted and sad. He sat up with a start.

"Professor, I came back to wake you, but you must been having a nightmare," the Skipper said. "You were yelling loudly enough that I could hear you in the berry patch."

"It was awful," the Professor said, shaking his head, still reliving the sadness. "Mary Ann…is she alright?"

"Still asleep," the Skipper said, "but she seems fairly stable. I don't want to speak too soon, but she's of strong stock, Professor."

"Thank you, Skipper," he replied. The Skipper patted his back. "I brought you some dinner. Salad and a little fresh fish, and Gilligan squeezed some pineapple juice."

"I'm not very hungry…"

"EAT IT."

The Professor shrunk down in his chair. The Skipper meant business, so he ate a couple of bites while the sailor stood there watching.

"Alright," the Skipper said. "I am heading back to camp. Light the signal fire if you need anything."

The Professor finished his dinner, changed the damp cloth on her forehead, and resumed his position sitting on the ground against Mary Ann's cot. He felt better being near her, somehow. It helped him concentrate on his book. He started writing and revising.

After half an hour or so, she stirred awake.

"Professor?" She sleepily brushed her fingers over the crown of his head. He turned to look up.

"How are you feeling?"

"Throat sore. Water." He handed her the gourd with the little bamboo straw. She sipped it.

"I'm going to check your vitals, dear." Pulse slightly elevated. Fever still there, but not at a dangerous level. He felt a tremendous weight off of his shoulders in that moment.

"Mary Ann, I hesitate to bring good news too soon, but I think you're out of immediate danger." He smiled as she took his hand. He kneeled next to her and brushed some hair off of her forehead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as he dabbed her head gently.

"For what?"

"I was afraid I'd die from this fever and you wouldn't ever know."

He looked at her questioningly as she faded back into slumber.

"That I love you," she murmured, her eyes closed.

Mary Ann was sound asleep moments later, with only a Mona Lisa smile echoing her words. He pressed his lips on the back of her hand and held it against his cheek.

The Professor went back to camp that night at long last, exhausted and nearly delirious from lack of sleep, and told everyone that Mary Ann had gotten through the worst. It was safe for both of them to come back to their huts. They all cheered and hugged the Professor for all of his hard work. He thanked them and promptly fell asleep at the picnic table. The Skipper threw the Professor over his shoulder and carried him back to his hut to sleep. Mary Ann was carried home by Gilligan. Finally, a sense of normality was returning.

"You feel better so we can go fishing soon, Mary Ann," Gilligan said, placing his friend in her own bed.

"I can't wait," she mumbled. "I am so tired of sleeping."

"Hey, that's a good one," he said, lightly chucking her in the arm.

-o0o-

The Professor sat up after a long, long rest and rubbed his eyes. He had no concept of how long he had been sleeping, but according to his calendar watch, it had been long enough that his bladder felt like it was about to explode.

He returned to find his bed made and breakfast on the table with a note from Ginger.

_We saw you were awake. Enjoy breakfast!_

He ate as if he had never consumed food before. When he had finished, he walked over to the girls' hut to check on Mary Ann and thank Ginger. Ginger had gone off to pick berries, but Mary Ann was finally awake.

She was sitting up for the first time in nearly a week, still a bit groggy, quite pale, but smiling broadly when she saw him at the window with a bouquet of flowers. The others had decorated the girl's hut with hundreds more. It smelled heavenly.

"I decided I didn't want to be like poor Aileen Forbischer," she joked, as he sat beside her on the bed.

"Who?"

"The lady in my soap opera," she replied, chuckling. "Young Dr. Young couldn't save her. I was luckier."

"Yes, you were."

"Thank you for taking care of me," she said. "I'm told you had to be quarantined with me. I don't remember much over the past couple of days."

"That's fine, dear." He handed her his bouquet. "I'm just glad you're alright. You gave me – us – quite a scare. I must go back to work on these plans now. Take it easy for the next couple of days."

"Hi," Ginger said, entering the hut. "How's the patient?"

"Feeling better," Mary Ann replied, taking a sip of pineapple juice and laying back down. Although feeling stronger with food in her belly and fresh air, she still got tired easily.

"Good," Ginger said. "Just look at this place. Flowers everywhere. I feel like I'm in my old dressing room on set again, only this time the bouquets aren't for me." She giggled and floated out of the hut.

The Professor reached in his knapsack and pulled out a stack of papers bound together with twine.

"I worked on my book, _Fun With Ferns_, while we were quarantined. Someday it'll be published, but for now this is the only copy in the world." he said, handing Mary Ann the bound papers covered in his tidy script.

He ducked out of the hut, waving goodnight.

There, on the first page, was his dedication to her.

_For Mary Ann, my light and my rock._

-o0o-

She found him sitting in his reading spot by the beach a few days later, reading through a book about volcanoes.

"Hi," she said. She was still a bit weak from her illness, but looked a thousand times better. It had been revealed that the high fever had affected the hearing in her left ear – she may possibly have had some irreversible damage to it – but her vitals seemed to have returned to normal. Her heart sounded fine; her lungs weren't damaged, she had no pain elsewhere.

"Hello, dear," the Professor replied, as she sat beside him.

"It's nice out today," she said, relishing the sensation of sea breeze on her skin. She was happy to be outside and walking around. She thought about how funny it was she usually took such a thing for granted.

The Professor got up and helped her to her feet. "I want to show you something."

He walked her around the corner past some brush, his hand on her back, guiding her steadily as she walked.

"Alright. Look over there," the Professor said, pointing over to the vegetable patch.

She gasped in delight. The irrigation system was in place and working beautifully.

"It works!"

"I thought that might make you happy. The Howells, Gilligan, Ginger and the Skipper completed it when we were quarantined. I was shocked, but the Skipper said the plans were really easy to follow. It works like a charm, thanks to your valuable input. I never would have figured it out on my own. Your father must have been a genius."

"In his own way, he was," she said, sighing. She missed him terribly. She missed her mother, too.

"Professor, I might have said some weird things when I was sick," she said. "When my dad was…dying…he'd shout out stuff in the night."

The Professor had no idea Mary Ann's father had passed away. She rarely talked about him, and now it seemed to make sense why. He took her hand in his and lightly squeezed it.

"I…" He searched for the words, realizing she was giving him an out if he wanted to take it. She remembered what she had told him in the cave.

He had so much to say; so many feelings coursing through him, but all he could say was this: "I love you, too, Mary Ann."

"Then it's true!"

"Of course it is."

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, relishing the sensation of his body crushed against hers, as they kissed sweetly in the setting sun, in the shadow of the irrigation pump they'd created together.

As twilight descended upon the island, they decided to head back to camp. He helped her to her feet, as they walked back to the semi-circle of huts, hand in hand.

"I want to be with you."

Her words stopped him in his tracks as he clasped her to him once more.

"Always?"

"Always."

They paused a moment in front of her hut, then continued together toward his own.


End file.
